Overture
by LadyLuria
Summary: Light doesn't belive in ghosts, but something is definitely prowling the Paris Opera House and threatening those who live and work there. It has been called the Opera Ghost, but more recently, has also been given the name Kira.


"Marked six-six-five, a music box, carved ebony, and bearing on it the crest of Righteous Fury: a black heart crowned by fire and flanked by two feathered wings. Still in working order, ladies and gentlemen."

The auctioneer's assistant held up the music box for the gathered buyers, "Showing here."

The worn gears inside the instrument began to turn and a tinkling little tune spilled clumsily from the box. A muted murmur of appreciation went up from the crowd.

Madame Yagami flinched noticeably at the sound. Her black mourning veil hid her widening eyes, which flicked quickly to the Comte de Lawliet, who it seemed had also stiffened in his seat. When the auctioneer spoke again ("My I commence at fifteen francs?") both their hands shot into the air.

"Fifteen francs, thank you Madame. Do I hear twenty? Twenty, good Comte. Twenty five? Madame? Do I hear thirty? Thirty, Comte. And thirty five? No? Thirty once, thirty twice, sold for thirty francs to the Comte de Lawliet. Thank you, sir."

The Madame nodded to L as he took the box in his pale hands. It hadn't stopped playing. He fixed dark, coal eyes onto her own hidden blue ones for a moment, then looked back to the podium as the auction continued.

"Marked six-six-six, then. A chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom Kira. A mystery which was never fully explained. We're told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which features in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghosts of so many years ago," the rest was accompanied by a good natured chuckle, "With a little illumination? Gentlemen."

At the word, a crew of four or so men took hold of the ropes surrounding the fallen chandelier and heaved. It had been the first thing L and the Madame had noticed on their arrival and had seemed fitting to them, somehow. It had, like all the rest of them, been felled, gone out. It was as dead as they were and devoid of purpose or reason. As it should be. It seemed almost a vile desecration, then, as the men hauled it up, out of the ashes and dust, higher and higher while the music box played until they both could almost hear the singers practicing on the stage, the tramp of hurried feet across the floor, the audience chattering before a show, the conductor's baton tapping irritably against the podium. And a voice.

A young man's voice that rang out, striking against every shard of the newly built chandelier and echoing in the cavernous theatre, calling out to them, "L!" The voice was laughing, "Misa!"

"L! Misa! Where are you two?" Light shouldered his way through the writhing crowd of actors and stagehands, calling out, "We're going to be late for the rehearsal!"

He searched the entrance halls, where Lord Ryuk was introducing the former patron, Comte Watari, to the newest theatre manager, Ide.

Matsuda waved genially to him as he shot past.

Backstage, Higuchi was trying to chat up one of the managers, Rem. She seemed less than impressed. Light barreled past them, nearly knocking the stagehand off his feet. Rem's laughter followed Light while he hurried through the winding corridors of the opera house.

Dancers skittered past, giggling and chirping. Light shouted to one of them, "Takada! Have you seen L or Misa?" Takada smiled as she was tugged away by the surging groups of performers, "No, I haven't."

Light sprinted into the suspended balconies over and behind the stage, ignoring the way the planks groaned beneath the many feet rushing over them. "Raye, have you seen L or-"

Raye Penber didn't look up from the knot he was tying, "Nope, Light. Have you tried the chapel?"

Running out of breath, Light skipped the last flight of rickety stairs and leapt over the rope railing amidst the startled cries of those watching. Misora had to lunge out of the way as he landed and he himself had to duck when a prop, a Wara Ningyo, was thrown violently at his head. "Watch it, kid!" she bellowed to his retreating back.

His boots thudded solidly on the stone floor of the chapel area. Bright stained glass windows threw dazzlingly colored light to the floor and walls, flashing as he ran.

Panting, he hurtled into the main body of the chapel and- _Crack!_

"Ouch," a droning voice intoned, "that really hurt."

Light, rubbing his head, glared at L, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, Light. So was Misa. She's practically running up the walls. Please try harder to control your girlfriend."

Muttering, Light pushed past L and fetched Misa from where she'd been fretting near the altar. Together, the three of them made their way back through the throng and into the marble entrance hall.

Light's father, Soichiro, smiled warmly at their approach, "Ah, you three. I was beginning to worry you'd be late. Ide, this is my son and co-owner of the Paris Opera House, Light; his friend, Watari's heir and our new patron, the young Viscomte de Lawliet; and our leading soprano and my son's fiancée, Misa Amane. Very promising talent, Monsieur. She'll be performing at the gala as the leading lady of tonight's Hannibal." Misa beamed and curtsied while Light and L bowed politely.

"And now, Monsieur," Soichiro continued, "If you would follow me, Mlle. Amane should be at rehearsal, and I would like you all to see how far the production has come in such short time." The stage was in uproar. Dancers and singers and stagehands and custodians jostled each other rushing about, getting dressed, warming up, setting up the backdrop, the props, the music and orchestra screeching and tuning.

Ide winced. Soichiro patted his shoulder sympathetically, but Aizawa laughed. Lord Ryuk offered his customary guffaw, which gave Light chills.

"Ah," he said in his grating voice, "the chaos of a dress rehearsal. It never ceases to amuse." His eerie gaze swept over the heads of the performers and he chuckled again, "Here comes Madame Rem." He turned to Ide, "She keeps the chorus girls in line and manages seating arrangements and finances when no one else cares to. She also does choreography and stage direction. This House would be six feet under without her."

Rem dipped her head respectfully to the new manager and said, in a surprisingly hollow voice for one so young, "A pleasure, Monsieur, despite the circumstances."

Ide frowned, "Circumstances?" he asked. Matsuda shifted uneasily, "Well, you see," he began, "The former manager, Ukita, the one you're replacing, he-"

Aizawa cut in, "Was involved in an accident."

"Oh," Ide looked distinctly unsettled, "Was he injured?"

"It was fatal," L said, blandly. "He died instantly." Light surreptitiously elbowed him. Ide saw. He gulped. Something was very wrong with the way everyone was tiptoeing around the subject, he felt.

Soichiro said abruptly, "Right, then. Well. Gentlemen, if you would kindly stand to one side and give the dancers some room. Mlle. Amane, that was your cue."

"Oh!" she gasped and scurried off, her costume bouncing crookedly. Rem sniffed, "Girl didn't check the lacing. I'll have to see to that later."

Ryuk chuckled, "Ah yes, I forgot to mention. Madame Rem is Misa's aunt. She was orphaned some years ago and taken to live in the dormitories of the Opera House. She and Light became fast friends which eventually blossomed into true love." Light blushed furiously while L nudged him, smug.

"Aw," Ryuk snickered, "Don't be shy about it." Light glanced nervously at the lord. There was something wrong about him…

"That's right, Light," L said, "there's no need to be shy."

"I'm not!" Light protested.

"No need to be so serious, either."


End file.
